


Of Love, Werewolves, and Other Beasts That Refuse to Die

by Sifter401



Category: League of Legends
Genre: All of it is sin, Alternate Universe - Vampires/Werewolves, Bratty Submission, F/F, Femslash February 2021, Pet Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rare Pairings, Sadism, Shameless Smut, Title Subject to Change, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Fiora (Nightraven Fiora), Werewolf Riven, ass worship, what else did you expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sifter401/pseuds/Sifter401
Summary: My contribution to Femslash February, likely to feature several pairings but focusing primarily on Riven/Fiora.Total. Sin.Will update tags as I go.
Relationships: Fiora Laurent/Riven, Irelia/Riven
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Ass Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I'm late.
> 
> Prompts are actually from a Kinktober 2020 list I pulled straight from Google images, so if February suddenly has 31 days (provided I actually stick it through to the end), you know why. Nothing was written with a word count goal/limit in mind, so expect chapter lengths to vary highly.

Fiora bends over with leisurely flair, fingertips touching down on the bed with similar grace. She flips her hair aside, short locks splaying across the pale, pale nape of her neck like brushstrokes of ink, and gives a look over her shoulder like she’s making sure Riven’s watching. Which is pretty fucking funny because _of course_ Riven’s watching the way the black satin of her panties pours a thin, enticing line between the full globes of her ass. Can’t _not_ watch, or skirt her fingers up the outsides of Fiora’s naked thighs and loop her indexes under the garment’s waistband just to see how the elastic caresses the perfect swell.

Fiora’s eyes gleam, smug and elegant like the upturn of her lips. Because Riven is hopelessly, unambiguously _infatuated_ , and Fiora, dripping down her own slender leg, panties steeped to _sopping_ , does so love to be worshipped.

“Fuck,” Riven mumbles, grumbly in a wolfen way. The vocal cords are among the first organs to change in the process, and Fiora in nothing but her white tee shirt is almost enough stimuli to trigger a turning. “Look at you…”

Earns her a breathy little titter like diamonds clattering on velvet, rich and sparkling.

Riven’s slow to tug the satin down, salivating at Fiora’s ass brimming deliciously against the tight strip of fabric. Walks the garment over and down the curve and lets it fall when she’s reached midthigh, then shoves her middle and ring fingers between Fiora’s legs to her slippery cunt and makes her moan short, startled sins that sound like Riven’s name. Makes Fiora’s shoulders curl like kindling twisting under flames, makes her knee climb the mattress for support to _push back_. Riven braces her free hand on Fiora’s waist while she rubs her, aimless as she is brief, because Riven’s only barely grazed Fiora’s clit before she’s pulling back and dragging her flattened hand up through the cleft of Fiora’s ass, watching her flesh heap on the rising cliff of her palm until it all spills around.

She gets a mopey little glare for all of her hard work, blue as the frozen sea through her hair clinging to her lips. “Don’t fucking _tease_ me,” Fiora seethes, pink in the face and panting softly, and _fuck_ , what that look does to Riven’s sex-

She bends down and sucks the pointed nub of Fiora’s shoulder blade to a rose-petal bruise, massaging the silk-smooth curve of Fiora’s butt until she’s dumb and humming and leaning into Riven’s body. Riven primes back her hand and smacks upside a cheek, the clap of palm harsh onto skin just louder than Fiora’s absolutely _delectable_ whimper. “Face down, then, princess,” Riven growls right in her ear, close enough to see Fiora shiver, “ass _up_.”


	2. Bratty Submission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New pairing already. Guess it's gonna be another "Riven fucks everyone" kind of collection.
> 
> Probably going to mix old lore and new lore as I see fit.

“Is this what you _dogs_ do to the sons and daughters of Ionia?” hisses like cold steel, sharp as the blade singing, actually _singing_ against Riven’s throat. Cold as an Ionian winter, but the rage breathing on her face simmers, the body bearing down on her boils her flesh through her clothes, and the pinpricks of fingernails burrowed into her wrists trickle with her own warm blood from a half-dozen lacerations.

And then there’s Irelia’s hair, cool as autumn leaves and soft and straight as silk where it licks Riven’s cheek. Pleasantly complimentary, Riven tries not to be distracted.

No, but yes.

Riven didn’t stand for that shit in her own company, but she knew it happened in others. Probably happened in her own anyways, out of her view. And it’s not _strictly_ a Noxian thing either, or even _particularly_. It’s an ugly truth of war that Riven could never honestly come to terms with (and _ugly_ is the wrong word. makes it sound like it can be downplayed or prettied up to be anything but what is: a violation of one’s sanctity, autonomy, identity. _evil_. _despicable_. fucking _disgraceful_. these are much better words for it.)

She doesn’t say that. The esteemed, beloved, feared Captain of the Resistance doesn’t seem like she’s in the mood to debate the ethics and doctrine of the long-gone Noxian front. Frankly, kinda seems like she’s in the mood to fuck.

Or kill. Can’t quite tell yet-

Irelia kisses her, and, mhm. It’s good. Especially after years without anything close to it.

Lips’re soft even when she’s rough, tongue’s slippery and warm as it slithers and ladles through Riven’s mouth, like she’s trying to _take_ in the same way she probably thinks Riven, the big, bad Noxian, takes. Even when she’s biting, and drawing blood, and commanding that single blade against Riven’s throat, unbendingly stable despite its attachment to nothing at all, and trying to be unflinching and condescending and _honed_ ; even then, Irelia’s still sloppy, greedy.

Fallible, and at a time that she could not- cannot- afford to be. Riven knows that pain.

Riven wrenches her hands from above her head, because Irelia might be well-trained, but she certainly isn’t _stronger_ than Riven (a tad shorter than her, too). Makes Irelia growl when her precious prisoner isn’t simply submitting to her. Makes Irelia moan like she obviously doesn’t mean to when Riven sweeps her hands up her thighs wrapped skintight in a glossy fabric and cups her _fantastic_ ass like she’s been wanting to ever since it sat in her lap, and Irelia’s practically frothing when she rips away.

“I _will_ kill you, Noxian,” Irelia spits with red cheeks, red ears. So goddamn young that those of frustration are the only lines carving Irelia’s otherwise immaculate face. “Do you hear me? _I will kill you_.”

“Fuck, you’re young…”

Irelia might actually kill her then. “ _What?_ ”

The blade at her throat doesn’t give for Riven’s breath, and on every gasp, Riven wonders if it will be this one that swells her esophagus too far so that the razor’s edge will finally break her skin, ushering forth the rest of her throat flesh to cut itself open upon and secure a grim, laboring fate.

“I said,” measured as a heartbeat, hands creeping down Irelia’s legs slow as half-congealed blood, thumbs flirting her warm inner thighs, “you’re young.”

Irelia glares.

“And it must’ve been years since we last met. How old were you when I first struck you down?”

Irelia’s double-fisted grip replaces the blade at Riven’s throat, and somehow, Riven finds this arrangement makes it easier to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not technically any fucking, but. C'mon. 
> 
> This adheres partly to old cannon where Irelia dies at some point. Hoped you like this spin on it.


	3. Pet Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt wrote itself.
> 
> I've kind of fallen behind. This one took me a while, so I might continue to edit this chapter. I prioritized getting it out over refining it.  
> Thank you for your kind words, those who've commented! means a lot to me!

“Kiss,” Fiora commands, black leather taut between her fist and Riven’s snow-white throat. Until Riven bows her head, beastly ears twitching.

Her warm werewolf tongue glides up the top of Fiora’s offered foot from knuckle to ankle while her eyes glare delicate threats up the length of the leash, her terrible werewolf hand cradling Fiora at the arch like she’s folded from tissue paper. So gentle with her cast-iron fingers that can splinter oak trunks, so careful with how her wicked claws dance upon Fiora’s flesh as Riven turns her foot in her palm to kiss the inner face, the outer edge. She will not harm Fiora in a way that Fiora doesn’t utterly welcome (and mmm, how her amber eyes promise to) because, while Riven is a creature of supernatural strength and sense, she is ultimately one of supernatural _restraint_.

Amusing, truly. That Riven denies, or, stranger still, _ignores_ the glory that someone with her kind of power and cunning could possess. Fiora has always known humility to be overrated.

Warm shivers walk up the insides of her thighs like dreamed phantoms of soft, soft lips as Riven’s tongue caresses her toes, envelopes around, slithers between. Not a beast’s tongue, nor a human’s; somewhere in between, wide and raspy but tapered, as long as her stubby, half-length snout but strong and thick, agile enough to roll around low, growly wolf words. Brings her to a quivering mess, all the same. Fiora leans heavier against the countertop, elbows aching against granite. “Good girl,” she coos.

Riven unfurls a sound like simple wolf pleasure, of a bountiful hunt or a night spent mourning the moon, that travels up the leash and flourishes through Fiora like blood through water. Her fangs _throb_.

She wraps the leather several times around her hand and pulls upward with force. Oh, Riven looks like she wants to shred Fiora to pieces and lap her remains from the tile floor for tearing her away like that.

“Sit.”

Riven remains on all fours.

So Fiora plucks her foot from Riven’s hand and steps firmly into her shoulder. She has no intention of displacing Riven; she harbors no delusions about the difference of strength between them, and it isn’t about that anyway. It’s about how Riven, on her knees, can see how positively fucking _wet_ Fiora is. It’s about how Riven’s eyes, chocolate and lovely against her ashen fur, pool between Fiora’s legs.

“ _Sit_.”

Riven obeys. Fiora’s heel rides her collarbone until her haunches rest on the tile.

“Good girl,” she revels, letting victory tug at her lip, teasing her mons in Riven’s face to relieve some of the ache (to bask in her gaze, to watch every abominable fantasy play in her eyes), “good girl. Now.” Fiora spreads herself with her fingers, and Riven is _panting_. “Eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect future chapters to be shorter. I was supposed to be churning out at least one a day, and I'm already three days behind!


	4. Sensory Deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapters, as I warned of. Hope you still enjoy them!

World’s vague beyond the blindfold, watercolor shapes bleeding across the canvas until nothing is recognizable. Which is fine, because werewolf _sight_ hasn’t ever been the stuff of legend.

The mattress depresses beside her head a moment before Riven feels warm weight settle on her thighs and fingertips begin their greedy perusal of the grooves through her abdomen, and Riven smells Fiora loom over her. The sugary tang of lemon and raspberry conditioner in her hair bordering her face in perfect curtains, the slow, peppermint heat of her breath passing through her lips. Hints of sweat and a tinge of exertion surfaces here and there in the sea of all of Fiora’s other smells, smug little evidences of their fucking during the dawn before this dusk (because dusk is dawn for nocturnal creatures like themselves).

Overall, _overwhelming_.

Even when Riven isn’t transformed to reap all that she’s capable of, she suffocates beneath the deluge of Fiora’s presence. Trapped, with her wrists bound in leather above her head and her eyesight taken from her.

She moans before Fiora’s even kissed her, because her scent and the sound of her breathing and the electric buzz of her skin arcing the distances between their bodies all shifting down at once is jarring, stifling, exhilarating. The touch of Fiora’s lips, tenderly pressed, nearly kills her.

“Fi-,” she gasps, a release in and of itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one really wanted to turn into other prompts, but I kept it corralled.


	5. Sadism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sadism." 
> 
> Yeah, didn't end up being entirely that. Sorry, this one got away from me.  
> Might not be perfectly edited/revised. I'm trying to get one out every day as best I can.

Pain scores through her lip, fang ripping through flesh, Fiora suckles the gash while Riven growls.

“Hurt me,” Fiora begs against her mouth, hips grinding pleas into her lap, and Riven’s heart _leaps_. Fiora licks the smothered blood from Riven’s chin like an apology- sinks her fangs again like betrayal. When lips touch softly on the newest wound, Riven’s wary. Trained, like a dog, to know what comes next.

She wrenches Fiora’s head back by a fistful of hair, puts her mouth to her slender neck and savors the tremors of her moans climbing through her chords. She’s despicably perfect, tall in Riven’s lap, long-limbed and elegant, and Riven wants to _destroy_ her.

She sucks Fiora’s skin until she’s ruined it with purple, rose-petal stains. Bites her until her flesh begins to crush and give beneath her teeth and Fiora half-withdraws with a whimper, half-freezes on the spot and _shudders_. Fucking hell, she’s like an orange slice, unbearably sweet on Riven’s tongue, so tart that cravings inspire the second she gets a taste of her. Riven pulls her closer, delving a hand through the cleft of her ass and groping until her fingertips drip, and then she lifts Fiora’s ass from her lap until she’s almost on her knees.

Shoves two fingers in her slippery cunt and curls hard enough to break mortal bone, hard enough to keep immortal Fiora sore for hours. Takes a pretty, pink nipple in her mouth and teethes it raw. Makes Fiora come gasping, hands rooted in Riven’s hair, hips rocking on Riven’s fingers that don’t let up.

And when they’re done, Fiora a stringless marionette with a heartbeat cast over Riven, purring as Riven strokes over the welts she’s painted across Fiora’s body and repents with soft, endless kisses to Fiora’s ear, Riven can’t help but feel like she herself was the puppet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was difficult to condense. It wanted to be it's own fic entirely.


End file.
